Comes Round Again
by Lys ap Adin
Summary: Yamamoto and Gokudera come full circle. General audiences, futurefic, Yamamoto and Gokudera.


**Title:** Comes Round Again**  
Characters:** Gokudera, Yamamoto**  
Summary:** Yamamoto and Gokudera come full circle.**  
Notes:** For Cliché Bingo, prompt: "Woke up in bed together." General audiences, futurefic, 1049 words.

**

* * *

**

**Comes Round Again**

Hayato dreamed that he had been buried alive, that no matter how hard he had protested, they had covered him over in earth and left him there with it pressing down on his chest, rendering it impossible to breathe.

When he clawed his way out of sleep, he discovered that it was probably because Yamamoto had thrown an arm across him in the night.

Idiot.

Hayato shoved it to the side, irritably, and got only a faint snore in reply as he sat up to take stock of their situation. They'd made it through the night, obviously, which had to be counted in the positive column. They were still hidden in the loft of this warehouse, which was also good, except for the fact that the loft was still in the heart of Barassi territory.

At least the blood on Yamamoto's makeshift bandage was dark, not bright and fresh. That was something else for the positive column.

Hayato considered it, and decided it was worth the risk to tap a cigarette out of its pack and light it. Hell, it wasn't like he was going to get any other breakfast this morning.

The flick and rasp of the lighter woke Yamamoto. Hayato watched it happen, the change nearly instantaneous: one moment Yamamoto was next to him, curled in on his injury, and the next he was trying to roll to his feet, groping for his box and sword, and hissing as the movement caught at his shoulder.

Hayato finished lighting his cigarette and took a drag, and exhaled the stream of smoke as Yamamoto looked around, already alert and cataloging their situation. "Sit down, you idiot."

Yamamoto grinned down at him and sat, wincing a bit and testing his shoulder as he did, gingerly. The alert light didn't leave his eyes. "Sleep okay?"

Hayato shrugged. "Well enough," he said. "Shoulder?"

"I'll survive." It was probably true, despite the white lines bracketing Yamamoto's mouth.

Hayato took another drag off the cigarette, savoring the rush of nicotine through his system. "So much for negotiations, I guess." That was the Barassi's loss, not theirs.

Yamamoto snorted. "Yeah. Tsuna should've sent Hibari instead, after all."

"I wanted him to send Xanxus." But the Tenth had wanted to try negotiating, so here they were.

Yamamoto grinned. "Can you imagine what their faces would have looked like? They would have crapped themselves."

Hayato contemplated the idea--the general, not the specifics--and smiled. "Yeah." And they probably wouldn't have dared anything, even with a room full of guns, all there to 'negotiate'. "They'll get Xanxus now, anyway." The Tenth didn't much approve of double-crosses, after all. And the Vongola had made every good-faith effort possible to deal with the Barassi. That the Barassi hadn't wanted to negotiate was their own damn fault, now.

"Yeah." Yamamoto fell silent while Hayato finished his cigarette, and then dug around in his jacket. He fished out a mangled energy bar, and divided it in half.

"I don't know how you can eat these things," Hayato said, when Yamamoto had passed one of the halves over to him. He eyed it--it was a waxy brown that was probably supposed to taste like chocolate, but wouldn't. Hayato took a bite anyway, grimacing at the chalky, grainy texture, and chewed, worrying the mouthful down out of sheer determination.

"Every time I do, I promise myself a nice dinner out to make up for it," Yamamoto said, with a wry little grin. "Take you with me for this one."

"Only if you're paying," Hayato retorted, and worked the rest of his half down, grimly. It sat in his stomach like a rock, but it was, technically-speaking, food, and it was better than nothing. When he'd finished, he said, "Way I figure it, we've got two choices--wait here for reinforcements--" That shouldn't take too long; the Tenth had probably started mustering their forces last night, when they'd missed their first check-in. "--or we can try to make it out of here on our own power."

"Or you can leave me here, get yourself out of here, and come back," Yamamoto proposed. "Since you're not--ow!" He rubbed the back of his head, giving Hayato a reproachful look.

"Don't say stupid things," Hayato instructed him, part of him very deeply satisfied with finally having had an excuse to fetch Yamamoto a brisk smack upside the head. "What do you think the Tenth would say if I showed up without your sorry ass dragging after me?"

"You'll be able to move faster without me," Yamamoto pointed out. He probably thought he was being reasonable about it, too.

Idiot.

"No," Hayato said. "The Tenth sent us out as a team. We go home as a team." He glared at Yamamoto. "Don't tell me I'm going to have to teach you what that means, dumbass." It'd be stupid, but maybe they were going to have to come full circle on this one.

Then again, maybe not, thought Yamamoto really was an idiot if he thought that frown of his could hide the surprise and pleasure in his eyes. "I'm just saying, it would be more practical--"

Hayato drew another cigarette out of his pack, and let it. "We're Vongola. Since when do we do things the practical way?"

Yamamoto's answering grin was bright. "All right, since never." He leaned back, resettling his shoulder. "We don't believe in being rescued, either, am I right?"

Hayato eyed Yamamoto's shoulder and weighed it against the number of Barassi foot soldiers out there looking for them, and the probable cold sneer Hibari would be wearing whenever they were found. "Damn straight," he said, and drew a pencil out of his pocket. He scraped a clear place on the floor in front of him, and leaned over, sketching in a rough map of the area. "Okay, so here's what I'm thinking..."

Yamamoto leaned over the map with him, eyes intent, listening to Hayato's preliminary plan and clearly thinking it over to see what he could offer that would make it better.

That, Hayato figured, watching him, was just as it should be.

They were Vongola, after all. They didn't care about doing what was practical; they cared about doing what was right--Tsuna had taught them all that.

**- end -**

Comments, as always, are quite welcome.


End file.
